Dear Nehemiah

Dear Nehemiah,

As you finally lay, napping, I can soak in a quiet moment and write. You are a whirlwind of motion and restlessness and an urging to discover, explore. Tomorrow you will have completed your eighth month. You've spend eight months going from vulnerable, gentle-spirited, dependent Nehemiah to the fearless, adventurous, on-the move boy who's infatuated with life. I watch you clamber across the floor and reach at things, palms wide, receiving all that it has to offer. You extend your little fingers open as if to take in the most of the tangible as you take in the conceptual. It's amazing to watch you learn. You are teaching me again the art of discovery. You're a living example of the wonder a change of perspective can have on a life. You are enthralled by all things new; held by the excitement and mystery. I am the pupil and you are teaching me, Nehemiah, to be so enchanted by the mundane. I am re-learning to crawl and balance and sit up and eat the food that's given.
"He's such a happy baby!" "He's such a content little guy." That you are. There is much that doesn't shake you; you are adaptable and tolerable and still gentle-spirited. Everything makes you laugh. We love tickling you when you're baring all, fresh from the tub. You propel yourself into fits of laughter at just the anticipation of our tickles. You are smitten by your newly acquired skills: the open and close of your eyes, sitting on your own, inching yourself across the floor. You are self-assured and motivated by your desire to see more, do more. But whenever you are afraid that you've wandered too far, all you need to do is turn around; you'll find that daddy and I have been cheering you on all along.
We are so proud and inspired and captivated by the small body that encases the big name and an even bigger spirit. You are so loved.

M